Rob Miller has been treading an interesting and consistent path in music, starting as one of the pioneers of crust punk through the highly influential Amebix, redefining their sound through newer influences for the farewell album and continuing that more experimental route with Tau Cross, an eclectic project that amasses elements from a variety of styles into a coherent form of expression that is, in a sense, not very far from the spirit of Amebix, despite a very clear aesthetic evolution.
Broadly speaking, we could begin characterizing Tau Cross as a skilful combination of straightforward attitude of hardcore punk with the techniques and conceptual depth of heavy metal; this does not account, however, for the richness that is insufflated into the project by the incorporation of psychedelic, industrial and folk influences, as well as Miller’s thematic preoccupations such as esotericism, the control of the masses and an emphasis on the gnostic worldview and its sentences on history and humanity.
This naturally results in a diverse sound that covers new territories beyond Amebix’s iconic sonic signature. For instance, the whole album is permeated by a stark accessibility that is clearly a natural part of the music rather than an effort to pander to a larger audience. All songs are built around a usually anthemic chorus in dialogue with powerful and direct riffs that reveal a far greater inheritance from heavy metal (e.g. Motorhead, Voivod) than any form of punk. It is clear that the muscular power of the riffing and pounding drums is as crucial for the music’s impact as the catchy choruses and hooks. In contrast to the bareness that is usually a source of pride in the early punk milieu, Tau Cross presents a spacious production allowing for a denser and layered soundscape that includes the intervention of synthesizers, electronics and passages reminiscent of gothic rock, post-punk and psychedelic and progressive rock. The songwriting is accordingly more ambitious than in the band’s previous efforts, as is particularly evident in tracks like “Three Tides” or “Violence of the Lord”. The overall impression is that of music that, although straightforward, possesses a depth that makes for a vivid and deliberate expression of the ideas in question, testifying to the level of compositional maturity that the band has attained.
The album’s quitter moments, such as “Sorrow Draws the Plough” convey an almost pastoral affectation, reinforced by Miller’s peaceful and melancholic singing and the instrumentation that brings to mind the sentiment of a folk ballad. In a sense, this “earthy” quality is consistent with the music’s wider context, as the aggressive metal riffs frequently display a telluric and “rusty” feel that was already present in the previous albums. Here, however, this is complimented by the airier presence of the synths, vocal variety and other such tools, granting the music a greater sense of fullness and realization. Likewise, the concept draws from tradition and folklore as well as grandiose themes such as the problem of evil and the true nature of reality beyond the veils of ignorance, informed by Miller’s interest in mysticism and Gnosticism.
In an age as cynical as ours, we can’t overstate how refreshing it is to come across such an high spirited and passionately zealous album that recalls the adventurous ethos of the earliest heavy metal bands that often expressed themselves through the language of myth and fantasy without ever overlooking the darker side of reality – after all, one of the album’s main themes is “the cosmological origins of evil and deception”.
